


Platinum

by Nevar23



Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevar23/pseuds/Nevar23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before the events of KotOR, this AU fic is about a chance meeting between Jaq Rand and the Exile, General Erika Miran while both are still working for Revan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Platinum

It took a lot to get a buzz going around the halls of Sith, Inc, but occasionally something happened that made the rounds.

Jaq first noticed it when he was walking through the common area on his wing. A huddle of smiling colleagues and soldiers talking in hushed voices drew his attention enough that he felt obligated to check it out. Information was power, after all. Dex acknowledged him with a nod as he approached.

"What's got you guys all giggly?" he asked casually, his eyes sweeping the group. It was Menlo who answered.

"General GILF is here," Menlo replied with a shit-eating grin.

Jaq snorted a laugh. "Yeah? Dunno why you're acting like a teenage girl. She wouldn't give the likes of us the time of day."

There was a chorus of responses, ranging from groans to pie-eyed fantasies of what they'd do if the General did deign to even notice them. Jaq listened for a minute, but quickly grew bored with it.

"Keep dreamin', boys," he suggested, shaking his head and continuing on his way to the Mess Hall.

The woman known as the General I'd like to fuck, or General Miran in polite company, he simply categorized as "Platinum", because that's what had caught his eye when he saw her the first time. It had been a quick glimpse and she'd had her back turned, but the platinum shock of ready-to-pull ponytail flowing from beneath her hat down her uniformed back had stuck in his mind. He was curious about her, as was nearly the whole base, word having gotten around about what she'd done for Revan, how she'd left after the war ended, but returned shortly after to resume her position with a shiny new Sith uniform. She must be something special, he mused, for Revan to welcome her back like that.

The door to the Mess Hall slid open, the wall of white noise from those inside putting him on guard and sweeping the distraction from his awareness for now. A quick scan of the room's occupants and a warning tickling his gut told him he didn't want to stay, so after waiting in line he grabbed a caffa and a protein bar and headed out, his mind reviewing yesterday's progress with his latest project and making plans for today.

As he turned the corner to the E-Ops Division wing, the double doors at the end of the hallway slid open, his C.O. and a small retinue walking through, most of whom seemed to be focused on a central figure, a woman. He saw a flash of red under the sleek coat, and the metallic insignias on her entourage marked them as officers, but the woman's head was lowered as she walked, her attention on a datapad. Had to be her, he thought with an amused smirk tugging at his lips as their trajectories neared intersection.

When protocol could no longer be ignored, he stepped to the side of the wide hallway to let them pass, staring at his half-eaten protein bar for a panicked moment before shoving it first in his mouth, then quickly deciding that wouldn't fly and stashing it in his pocket. It was only when he looked up to offer a hasty but snappy salute at the passing gaggle that he realized he'd been busted, the greenest eyes he's ever seen observing him, coolly detached until the last millisecond, when a ghost of a smirk hinted over her full lips. It vaguely registered that his C.O. was scowling at him, but Jaq's eyes were locked on her back, imagining that platinum ponytail wrapped around his fist.

As the group disappeared around the corner and he was left with nothing to do but get on with his day, he had to laugh at himself. He was no better than Menlo, Dex and the others, lusting after a woman way out of his league. Arriving at the workroom that held his current Jedi best pal, he put it out of his mind, plucking the datapad from the hook on the door and reviewing the latest vitals report.

 

* * *

 

He left his C.O.'s office under orders to stop at the closest 'fresher to wash the blood off his hands. The man was always happy to put another check in the "us" column, but Jaq suspected he was one of those people that got queasy at the sight of blood. A weird trait for a Sith, to be sure, but weird he could live with. At any rate, the day had been successful, his C.O. was happy, and he was looking forward to sharing a few knots with Tem later. He wasn't gonna complain about having to wash his hands.

Caution made him look both ways before he entered the officer's 'fresher. Even if he did have orders, he knew he'd have to explain if he was caught using the fancy facilities. They just loved to get their knickers in a twist over things like that. He kept his boots silent on the marble floor as he approached the long bank of gleaming sinks opposite the door, listening intently for a good ten seconds and hearing nothing coming from the stalls beyond.

Whistling softly, he dutifully pushed his sleeves up and activated the soap dispenser, leaning over the sink. No sooner had he worked up a lather than his eyes shot up to see the reflection of the door opening in the mirror, none other than General Miran striding through it, minus entourage.

She stopped abruptly, her slightly annoyed, petulant frown befitting her rank.

"Agent Rand, right?" she said, the words sounding strangely like an accusation, like she resented expending brain cells on that knowledge.

"At your service, Ma'am," he replied with a nod, sketching a careful, soapy salute before rinsing his hands and moving over to the dryer, hitting it with his elbow. The roar of the machine omitted the need for chit-chat, but he could still steal glances at her while she checked her face and hair. After she caught him the first time, he should've stopped, but he couldn't help himself.

He almost jumped when the machine finished its cycle, the quiet seeming huge. And then his mouth was opening, and words were coming out. Crazy words.

"Nice coat. You have the whole base abuzz, if you don't mind me saying so." He gave her his most devastating smile, even while his mind yelled at him to shut the hell up. Getting no reaction other that a very quick glance, he continued. "'Course, I bet that happens pretty much wherever you go."

She didn't offer any response, removing the coat in question. Despite being used to the high and mighty officer routine, he found himself irked. It was probably best for him to clear out before his mouth got him in trouble, he figured, turning to go.

"Door's locked," she said flatly, closing the distance between them, her palm flattening against his chest and pushing him back against the wall with surprising strength. It was only when his motion had ceased that he realized he'd grabbed her by the shirt. His eyes met hers, and in a small eternity of seconds there was unspoken knowledge exchanged, terms agreed upon. On some silent pre-arranged signal, he tugged, she pushed, their mouths collided, her body pressing against his in all the right ways. The kiss deepened and spun out to staccato attacks, his mind reeling when she began unbuckling his belt and trousers.

 _This is crazy_ , his survival instinct offered while his hands sought to clear the boundary of her uniform. There'd always been officers who got off on trysts with the lower ranks, but this was exceptional. Part of him kept expecting her to come to her senses, whatever those were. Such observations weren't long in his mind, though. Everything became a blur of head-spinning sensation and a fight for the upper hand. She wanted it. Undoubtedly she was used to it, but he wasn't about to give it over easily.

It was a matter of principle, then, when he wrestled her around, pinning her to the wall. It was a tight fit with his body crushed against her back, but he worked his hand around her, fingers crawling down beneath the flimsy oh-so-not regulation thong she was wearing.

There were no words, just his hot breath on her neck while his fingers worked her over. He was savoring the slick warmth of her cunt when she surprised him with a sharp elbow to the ribs, drawing an involuntary grunt from him, followed by a very intentional laugh, though his eyes watered from the impact. He might've taken it as her wanting him to stop if she wasn't rubbing her round ass against his crotch.

He glanced toward the door and hastily freed his cock from his boxer briefs, adrenaline racing through his veins. There were so many ways for this to go wrong, but not a single one mattered once he was lined up, burying himself inside her, the ensuing onslaught of pleasure pulling a low growl from deep inside him. She pressed her ass back hard and he could see her teeth clenched in a vicious smile.

That smile, the time factor, and the whole delicious sordidness of the situation went ricocheting through his lust-fogged mind as he slowly and with great care wrapped that platinum ponytail around his fist and proceeded to fuck her like there was no tomorrow. The snug grip of her cunt was as near perfect as he could wish for. Too perfect. The blissful pressure pooling thick in his groin warned him that the point of no return was approaching.

"You better hurry, General," he hissed in her ear, cranking her head back.

She exhaled a short laugh. "You come before I do and I'll fucking court martial you, Rand."

He chuckled and slammed into her, eyes nearly rolling. "I don't doubt it, but somehow I think it'd be worth it."

She shoved backwards then, her leg sweeping his and before he could react, he was landing hard on his ass, the shock of the cold marble adding insult to injury. He'd tried to let go, but still saw a few long, blonde hairs streaming from his hand.

"You-" he began, but stopped, a curious grin curling his lips when he saw her quickly shimmy out of one leg of her pants.

Looking like some kind of goddess despite her disarray, she towered over him a moment, smirking as she placed the toe of her boot against his chest and began to push. He shot a glance down and back up at her, several options rolling through his head. He'd dearly love to play with her, to taste, tease and push her, but someone was bound to knock on the door any minute now. He had to offer a token of resistance, at least, sliding his hand up her calf and thigh. He was nearly wincing by the time he gave in and fell back.

Her smirk broadened at the victory, lowering herself astride him, looking like she was about to tear him apart. Her ponytail was wrecked, but like her lipstick, the knowledge that it was him who had ruined it made it all the more arousing. He moistened his lips to remind her they were fucking on borrowed time, but then there was her firm hand squeezing his cock and the obliterating heat of her cunt sliding down over him. Everything else could go straight to hell.

Watching her - General Fucking Miran, Revan's right hand - disheveled and moaning and riding his cock was a mindfuck and a half. The best possible kind of mindfuck. The kind you savored for years. The kind you brought out when life took a piss in your breakfast cereal.

His fingers dug into her hips as he met every demanding stroke, their bodies finding perfect rhythm without any of that awkward first fuck fumbling. He was skidding fast toward oblivion and determined to take her over the edge with him. His eyes locked on hers as he licked his thumb and lowered it to her clit, rolling it round and round the swollen bead.

A curse flew from her lips, her hand drawing back to slap his face then grabbing on, nails digging and raking across his already stinging cheek. His laughter sounded insane even to his ears as he hit the edge and danced along it. Bright, artifical light. Cold, hard floor. The intoxicating smell of sex. Dizziness, heat, grinding teeth, pounding flesh. Frantic now. Harder. _Harder_. Let. It. Go. Yes. _FUCK_.

The orgasm sent his muscles rigid with ecstasy, every throb of her cunt pulling a rhythmic pulse of cum out of him like some kind of Force trick. He rode the pleasure through, sucking every bit of it out like marrow from a bone. His eyes registered, memorized and drank in the shudder that rolled through her, the sheen of sweat covering her exposed skin, the sight of her parted lips as her own ride drew to a close.

After a few moments of mutual basking, the faintest of smiles hinted across her lips. She patted his cheek and stood without warning. He consoled himself over the abrupt desertion, recognizing the need for them to get the hell out of there before they were busted. She probably had a meeting or something, and it wouldn't do for her to be caught with him. He knew who would lose in that scenario.

No illusions clouded his mind about what this was, no matter how good a fuck it was. Still, there was something... He couldn't put his finger on it, though, and finally dismissed it as his imagination. He drew in a deep breath and rolled up to his feet, pulling his pants up and buckling his belt, watching her as she dressed and moved to the mirror to repair the damage.

He raked his hair back a couple times and leaned in to examine the scratches on his cheek. He turned on the water and gingerly washed the blood away.

"You should put some kolto on that," she offered.

He took a moment to reply, catching her eyes in the mirror. "Maybe. Might just keep it a while."

She came very close to smiling in earnest before she checked herself, he was sure of it. She gave a quick nod toward the door which he took as his cue. He held her gaze for another long moment.

"It was a real pleasure, General Miran. Watch your back out there." With that, he turned to go.

"You too, Rand."

He looked back over his shoulder at her one last time, tempted to ask if this was really a chance meeting. He thought better of it, though. If it wasn't chance, if she'd seen him and followed on purpose, he wasn't likely to get the truth from her. If it was chance, well, he was probably the luckiest bastard in the 'verse either way, really. Listening for movement outside the door and finding none, he slipped out, his smile broadening to a smirk, a definite spring in his step as he traversed the stark halls to the E-Ops wing and his quarters.

He didn't see her again after that, and he never told a soul about his romp with her, but the strange feeling that there was something else, something that made his instinct tingle in the weirdest way when he remembered her never left him. He had a feeling they would cross paths again. He looked forward to it.


End file.
